


The Boy Who Talked to Dragons

by Sugoi_Argonian_Maid



Category: Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy IV: The After Years
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugoi_Argonian_Maid/pseuds/Sugoi_Argonian_Maid
Summary: Kain managed two staggering steps towards his dead father's inert dragon before a sob ripped from his depths and sent him stumbling. He heard his knees crack on the ground, but he felt nothing. He threw his arms across Skyrunner's neck and wept deeply, loudly.Kain didn't see his mother run her fingers through his hair, but he recognized her touch. After a few moments, Ruth lowered her head near Kain's ear and whispered, "Skyrunner needs to sleep, hon. Why don't we sit by his side for a while and keep him warm?"Kain let Ruth help him stand, and silently endured her gentle scolding about how he needed to take better care of his knees. They settled with their backs against Skyrunner's azure flank. Kain rested his head against his mother's shoulder."I'm scared," he told her nakedly."You have every reason to be," Ruth returned softly. She stroked his wet, chapped cheek with the back of her hand.--As you'd expect from someone so well-balanced, Kain Highwind's prepubescent years were uneventful.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltedpin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedpin/gifts).



> Lord have mercy, I wrote another thing about Kain Highwind. It's a SFW companion piece to the NSFW [Heavensward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350495), and it's meant to run through a formative event of Kain's childhood. 
> 
> Contains an OC or two, as well as headcanon mixed with obscure canon. Watch out!!
> 
> No but seriously, please enjoy. :)

Kain Highwind was capable of remembering most of his dreams, a talent he regarded as a blessed curse. Every night he journeyed wide to seek adventure, or he slipped effortlessly through the air in rapturous flight, or else he shivered in the shadows of formless beings born from the darkest, most wintry crevices of his mind. He could never predict what his subconscious was going to treat him to.  
  
Kain never talked to his parents about his dreams, though he suspected he ought to mention them to his mother at least once. He didn't, however. He just accepted the memory of his dreams alongside his recollections of the waking world. In time, his dream-memories of his wordless conversations with towering, eyeless shades were almost indistinguishable from his childhood memories of Ricard Highwind lifting him up to touch the warm, soot-caked snout of his blue dragon mount.  
  
So when Kain's mother shook him awake hours before dawn on a mild early autumn morning, he had to blink his eyes rapidly to tear away the sticky caul of dreams clinging to him. He'd been having another "conversation" with a shadow, even though no words passed between them; just frigid scents of loathing and fear. And more and more often the black, hateful gales that pushed against Kain while he slept reminded him of his friends Cecil and Rosa, but he was helpless to explain _why_ \--  
  
"Kain! If you're not up and out of bed in one minute, I'm going to leave you behind."  
  
The voice of Ruth Aranea Highwind was the only force on earth capable of instantly whisking Kain out of a dream-induced stupor, and it did the job once again. Kain forced his eyes to focus on his mother, whose small form looked deceptively serene and gentle in the light of the lantern she held beside her.  
  
"Mother?" Kain said, wisely stifling a yawn. "Did Foe's Blood come back?"  
  
"She did," Ruth said, lifting her lantern a little so that Kain could safely clamber out of bed. Her strange violet eyes shimmered excitedly in the weak light. "She's ready to take me to see her hatchlings, and I'll warn you one more time to stop talking and get dressed or we'll leave you behind."  
  
Ruth put the lantern on a small table near the door of Kain's bedchamber. Every year Ruth had an argument with Ricard about whether it was time for Kain to start sleeping in the dormitories reserved for Baron's Dragoons, and every year Ruth's defense of her son's privacy won out -- though Kain figured his days of sleeping behind his own walls were numbered now that he was coming up on his thirteenth birthday.  
  
Ruth's shadow danced furiously on the wall as she pawed through the trunk containing Kain's personal effects. "Dress warm; it's going to be a cold trip." She tossed a tangled ball of cloth and furs at him, and Kain caught it on the first try (not without a little relief).  
  
Ruth picked up her lantern again and glared. "Why are you just standing there with your gob as wide as a boot?"  
  
Kain squirmed. "I just -- want to get dressed in private. If that's all right. Mother."  
  
Ruth made a sound between a laugh and a snort. "I don't recall you having clothes on when you came out of me screaming like a wild thing. But whatever you like, little lord. Make it quick."  
  
Kain huffed as he pulled on his clothes, taking a second to appreciate the snug warmth of his black-spotted coeurl fur cape. Its heaviness was already causing him to sweat a little, but he knew he'd be thankful to have it as soon as he left the ground.  
  
Kain left his bedroom and turned his head left and right, looking for Ruth. He felt her grip fall on his upper arm before he even saw her. The hold was not gentle, and Kain instinctively froze.  
  
"Get behind me and stay behind me," Ruth said in a low, even tone that made Kain's skin bristle with chills even though he was well-wrapped. "Foe's Blood is very maternal right now, and you're smart enough to know that doesn't mean she's feeling tender. If she regards you as a threat, you're dead, and I won't be able to save you. Do you understand?"  
  
Kain swallowed. "Yes, mother."  
  
"Do you still want to come with me?"  
  
"Yes. Absolutely."  
  
Ruth relaxed her grip. "Let's go, then."  
  
Ruth's stride wasn't much wider than Kain's, but he still needed to half-run to keep up with his mother as she made her way through Baron Castle's eastern wing -- the domain of the Dragoons, their servants, and their squires. It also housed the quarters of the aviary caretakers, the men and women responsible for tending to Baron's flight of dragons. Ruth's connection with the beasts eventually earned her the rank of the aviary's matron. Ruth's subordinates mumbled amongst each other about how her promotion wasn't too surprising; her temperament gave her a lot in common with her precariously-tamed charges.  
  
Mother and son wound their way up the easternmost tower of Baron Castle. Ruth's breathing remained even through the climb, but Kain was panting by the time the two opened the last door and broke into the night.  Kain greedily took in mouthfuls of the autumn wind and savoured the moist, calm taste of a world settling down for a long sleep. The breeze pressed against his sweat-damp clothes, causing a chill to shiver down into his core.  
  
Foe's Blood was indeed present. She perched on the ramparts of the east tower, her hind claws confidently clutching the crumbling brick. Her fore-talons, slick with moonlight, sheathed and unsheathed as she slid her upper body towards Ruth like a great crimson cat. Any other dragon would have looked suitably sleek with such a display, but Foe's Blood's movements were a bit graceless; she was broad, squat, and knotted with muscle. Her short neck, bulging jaws, and bristly back-hair always reminded Kain of the dogs Baron bred to hunt Behemoths.  
  
Foe's Blood had left the aviary over six months ago to find a mate, and Kain was so happy to see her again that he lost his head for a second and began to run towards her. He remembered himself after a step and a half and stopped so suddenly that he nearly pitched over, but the small jerk was still enough to agitate Foe's Blood. The Baronian Red, usually happy to see Kain (especially if he had morsels of Chocobo meat on his person) lifted herself on her hind claws, flared her wings, and bared her fangs at him. Kain gawped at the display. His father's dragon, Skyrunner, had Foe beat for length and wingspan, but Kain knew that if Foe decided to bring her muscles and teeth down on him, his ribcage would fold into his lungs like the legs of a grotesque, dying spider curling into itself.  
  
"It's fine, Foe, it's fine," Ruth said sharply but steadily as she threw out an arm to protect her son. "It's only Kain. He wants to see your babies, too. Is that all right?"  
  
Foe's Blood covered her teeth, tucked away her wings, and dropped back down on all fours at the sound of Ruth's voice, though a storm rumbled deep in her chest. Kain's legs were still trembling when his mother silently reached around and slapped him upside his head.  
  
Thankfully, Foe's boiling temper quickly cooled and she let Kain approach her. She dipped her head and Kain wrapped his arms around her snout. He murmured greetings, dug in his heels, and pushed back against the dragon as she nuzzled him.  
  
"No need to apologize," Kain told her. "It was my fault."  
  
Ruth dug her fingers into Foe's neck-mane and scratched deeply. "She's pretty agitated. I doubt she'll hold still long enough for me to get her saddled." She pulled away from the dragon and brushed off her hands. "Kain, you're about to learn how to ride a dragon bareback. For the gods' sake, don't tell your father."  
  
Kain's mouth dropped open. "That -- that's terribly unsafe, mother. It's against every rule the Dragoons ever--"  
  
Ruth smiled. "Kain Highwind. My love, my heart. If anyone ever suspects you're not Ricard's son, I'll just pull the rod out of his ass and the rod out of _your_ ass, line them up side-by-side, and prove beyond doubt you're both woven from the same soul. Now off we go."  
  
Ruth effortlessly plucked Kain from the ground by his armpits. Foe lowered herself obligingly as Ruth swept her son up and onto the dragon's neck. Then she mounted behind Kain, allowing enough clearance for Foe's wings. There was just enough room for the both of them, though Ruth had to practically squish Kain into her bosom. Kain blushed and gathered up double handfuls of dragon-mane.  
  
"Hold on tight," Ruth said, "and press your knees against her neck as hard as you can. You won't hurt her. Ready?"  
  
Ruth didn't wait for an answer before she gently slapped Foe's Blood twice on the side of her neck. The dragon loped to the other side of the tower and plunged over the rampart.  
  
Kain's stomach immediately opted to stay behind at the tower, but when Foe's wings opened, caught the updraft, and sent the three of them spiraling up towards the cheese-yellow harvest moon, Kain's heart and soul flew _away_ from him, far and fast. He gripped onto the dragon's mane, mouth unhinged slightly, icy air rushing past his teeth. He silently urged Foe's Blood to go faster, fast enough to catch up to his spirit and let him sample the full flavour of being a wild, winged thing. Here, on dragonback, the wind washed everything dark out of Kain's head. He thought only of good things, hopeful things, remembered only the white side of his dreams.  
  
Behind him, Ruth wrapped her arms around Kain a little more tightly. Kain didn't need to turn around to know there was a rapturous look in her eyes that mirrored his own ecstasy.  
  
The flight was short, too short. Foe's Blood started to drop altitude when she reached the long, low mountain range that divided Baron from the small and secluded nation of Mist. Kain felt a little nervous at the prospect of crossing Mist's borders. Of course, the tiny country had no means of stopping them from doing so, but Kain picked up worrying sentences and words about the secluded people around the Dragoons' barracks. "Phantoms" was one word he often heard. "Eidolons" was another. He had no idea what either word had to do with Mist, but hearing them always made his heart quicken.  
  
"Inbred" was still another word that was often used in conjunction with Mist, usually followed by a short, mirthless laugh. Kain didn't know what "inbred" meant. He'd been meaning to ask his mother.  
  
"Looks like Foe didn't wander too far from home this time," Ruth said into Kain's hair. She was in a very light mood; Kain suspected Ruth was worried Foe's Blood wouldn't return before winter -- or not at all. It was a valid fear, since it certainly wasn't unheard of for one of Baron's dragons to turn feral after mating and opt not to return to its handler. Kain knew Foe's Blood would never leave Ruth, the dragon had told him so herself, but he supposed the fear always roosted in the back of his mother's mind.  
  
Foe's Blood dropped onto a tiny plateau so suddenly that Kain's teeth rattled. Ruth quickly slid down Foe's shoulder, but Kain hesitated at the dragon's nervous shuffling and shifting. Ruth reached up and helped Kain touch down safely.  
  
Ruth must have caught scent of Kain's unease because she said, "Kain, what's with you?"  
  
Kain's breaths felt shallow. "We're near Mist, right?"  
  
"Yes, I think we're about ten miles southwest of--" Ruth stopped. "Wait. Are you scared?"  
  
Kain could feel his cheeks burn against the wind, and even though he knew his mother probably couldn't see the blooming roses in the dim light, he lowered his head.  
  
"What manner of crud have the Dragoons been telling you about the Summoners of Mist, Kain?"  
  
Ruth's voice was rough with emotion, which caused Kain to quickly lift up his head again. His mother's eyes were opaque black wells in the moonlight, but they flashed wet and violet in Kain's memory.  
  
"Mother -- are you -- are we--"  
  
Ruth sadly ran her hand down the tied-back stump that barely passed for Kain's ponytail and kissed the top of his head. "I don't know for certain, love. I don't know enough about my heritage, your blood. It's made being with your father difficult sometimes, and when you were born with my eyes ... Well, I'll just say I thanked the gods when they changed over to Ricard's blue when you were around a year old."  
  
Kain swallowed.  
  
"The less I say right now, the less I speculate, the better for both of us," Ruth said. Foe's Blood stole up behind her and pressed her chin none-too-gently on Ruth's shoulder. Ruth staggered, but also chuckled. "You're young, Kain. I'm young, too. We'll talk more about this when you're a little older and able to understand it all. For now, this ugly mother is getting impatient with us."  
  
The plateau offered little shelter from the relentless wind -- and up here in the mountains, the fall weather didn't allow the dregs of the summer's humidity to cling to its tail. Kain wrapped his fur cape tighter around himself and followed his mother and Foe's Blood to the one stand-out feature on the plateau: A tangle of boulders and squat, leafless trees that looked as if they'd been grim and naked since the dawn of time. It was an inhospitable place, but it was also too high and barren for birds of prey to take much of an interest in.  
  
Besides, even hatchling dragons were tough against bad weather. And the hatchling that Foe's Blood had stashed in the twigs and hawk-feathers gathered in the crotch of one of the tree's system of roots seemed lively enough.  
  
"Look at that," Ruth whispered more to herself than Kain.  
  
Curled up, the dragon-whelp was about the size of a summer melon. It was pale-green in the moonlight, and its wings stuck to its leathery body like wet parchment. It looked directly at Kain with glittering pebble eyes, then opened its mouth and swayed its head to and fro.  
  
"Somebody likes you, Kain," Ruth said. "Or at least she likes the idea of being fed by you. With baby dragons, that's really the best you can hope for."  
  
Foe's Blood pushed by Kain with a contented noise and touched snouts with her offspring. Ruth looked worriedly at the smashed, trampled eggshells littering the nest. One egg was still intact, but Kain could tell at a glance that it was cold and dead.  
  
"Not a very strong brood," Ruth said. "Fewer dragons being born year after year. When dragons are scared to breed well, it usually means they sense trouble." She exhaled through her nose, gave her head a shake, and threw her arms as far as they'd reach around Foe's neck. "You did well, my honey. So well."  
  
"What's next?" Kain asked.  
  
"We all go home as a family," Ruth said with a considerably more cheerful face. "You're going to raise the whelp, Kain. Make sure she stays cozy on the flight."  
  
Kain's eyes darted from his mother to the hatchling and then back to his mother. "I'm going to -- what?"  
  
"All Dragoons raise at least one dragon," Ruth said evenly. She picked up one of the eggshells from the nest and examined it in the light of the moon. It folded over itself like wet paper, and she frowned. "If things go well, this little one will be a companion for life. So think of a good name and pray she likes it."  
  
Kain sucked in his breath and regarded the tiny beast. She stared into him with opaque, static eyes. Some very old dragons -- particularly those descended directly from Shinryu, Bahamut, and the other primal draconian gods said to have formed the world -- could speak to humans. Most dragons, however, were only capable of projecting faint jumbles of colour and emotion towards the humans they bonded with.  
  
Some humans, like Ruth, were excellent at sniffing out the meanings behind those projections. Kain was … well, he was still trying to get the gist of it. He knew most captive-bred dragons are born with an idea of what they want their human handlers to call them, but getting that name out of the hatchling was a dizzying task. Communicating with adult dragons was a huge undertaking, but at least there was some predictably and order involved. Communicating with a whelp was like playing a guessing game with a criminally insane individual.  
  
Nevertheless, Kain was eager to try. He cleared his mind best he could, and invited the dragon-whelp into it. He gasped unconsciously when the hatchling moved in with a torrent of riotously-coloured baby-babble. The backs of his eyes were immediately saturated with whorls of pink and red; the colour of Foe's scales, and the colour of the half-digested deer meat she regurgitated for the whelp every day.  
  
But there was something buried beneath the pup's message to Kain, something more complex than her initial "I LOVE MOM" and "I LOVE FOOD." It couldn't be translated precisely into words, but Kain tried to pick up the gist of the dragon's picture-scent.  
  
_"One by one, my brothers stopped calling to me from inside their shells. I am all there is."_  
  
Kain's eyes flew open. "Endir? You want me to call you Endir?"  
  
The whelp withdrew all its colours from Kain's head. If she thought the name was good or bad, she gave no indication.  
  
"Not surprising she wants to sound important," Ruth muttered. "Look who her mother is." She put her hand on Kain's shoulder. "Endir's your responsibility now, Kain. If you do wrong by her, you'll have to answer to your father and myself -- and Foe's Blood."  
  
Kain's blood turned slick and cold at the thought of hurting the little dragon. "She'll be my partner, my friend, my life," he said shakily.  
  
Ruth nodded. "That's the right thing to say, but talk is cheap. Do good by your promise, Kain, and never forget Endir is your friend first and foremost. Now wrap up tight and make sure she's warm too, or she'll freeze to death on the ride home before you can get to know each other."  
  
Kain half-panicked as he tried to think of a way to keep the baby comfortable; Ruth and Foe's Blood were preparing to fly again. In a few thoughtless, desperate jerks, Kain threw open his fur cloak, whipped out the hem of his shirt, and tucked Endir against his bare chest. He heard a muffled squeak of surprise.  
  
Ruth's face gave no indication that Kain had done right or wrong. From atop Foe's neck, she silently offered a hand to help Kain scrabble up in front of her. Kain used his other hand to keep the baby dragon secure, like a pregnant woman guarding her belly.  
  
"You look like a prize dunce, Kain," Ruth said finally, "but no doubt the baby's comfortable and warm. You'll do fine with her, I think. Hold on tight."

Foe's Blood launched herself skyward, and again there was the all-too-brief ecstasy of riding the wind and defying gravity's iron law. Kain's rapture was cut even shorter when Endir latched onto his chest with her teeth just as Baron's spires began to form against the sleepy dawn sky.

Later that morning, Ruth pat the back of Kain's hand while Baron's white mages applied their magic to the gnawed wad of meat that was once his left breast.

"Congratulations on your first occupational scar." she said, her voice oozing viscously through Kain's sedated mind. "Get used to them, honey."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supplementary story materials for Final Fantasy IV state that Kain loves dragons, even though he doesn't say as much out loud (surprise). I love dragons, too! So this story is really fun to write! Hooray! Win-Win!
> 
> Mind, Kain's love for dragons makes it likelier that he'd fall victim to training accidents. Beginners, man.
> 
> Thanks for the awesome feedback you've all supplied me with so far. :)

The cold weather seemed to follow Kain, his mother, and their dragons down from the mountains. Autumn's oranges and reds flared for less than a month before the season turned dim, dull, and wet.

It was on one such dreary day that Kain found himself alone in the Dragoons' barracks, dragging a straw broom across the floor. He had to bend low to get under the beds (Ricard would check his work), so he was more than a little startled when he straightened up and saw a lone Dragoon parked on the bed beside him.

Jacob Skyreach's traditional name betrayed his olive skin, thick stature and dark eyes -- traits unusual amongst Baron's lean, fair-haired Dragoons. But Jacob's memory held an infinite well of stories and legends about the Dragoons and the dragons they commanded, and he was always happy to relay them to Kain. His voice was gentle, but never quiet or timid. Kain loved watching him train his dragons; he could do with a few words what other Dragoons couldn't achieve with weeks of poles and chains.

Jacob watched Kain work, but his eyes were distant. When Kain stared back at him, the veteran Dragoon's cloudy face cleared up a little. He smiled, clearly with some effort.

"Don't let me get in your way, Kain," he said. "I just needed a little time to myself."

Kain leaned on his broom; he always felt less guarded around Jacob, who used to slip him candies when Ricard wasn't watching. "Have your dragons come home from their mating flight yet?" Kain asked.

Jacob's laboured grin went slack immediately. "No. They haven't."

Kain wrung his broom handle uneasily. "Well, they will. Any day now."

"They are not coming back, Kain Highwind."

Jacob's quiet statement was straight as an arrow and as hard as a stone. It was the same voice he used to train dragons, and its finality hit Kain with the force of a door slamming shut.

"I received new orders today." Jacob folded his hands on his lap and looked at them. "I'm to be assigned to an airship tomorrow. No more dragons."

"You won't be given another?"

"I will not be given another."

"I don't understand--"

Jacob looked back up at him. "There's nothing to understand," he said, and Kain flinched at the sharp edge in the Dragoon's voice. "Everything you need to know, I already told you. Baron loves its airships; they don't eat, they don't need to rest, and they don't balk at orders. But dragons aren't stupid, Kain Highwind. They know when they're not needed. That's when they hear the wind calling them home. So they go home."

Kain looked away. "I'm sorry, Ser Skyreach."

"My dragons are happy. There is nothing to be sorry for."

Jacob clearly had nothing else to say, so Kain drifted away, trying to make it seem like he'd spotted an especially dusty corner on the opposite side of the barracks. The Dragoon never again raised his voice at Kain, and his easy smiles and vivid storytelling sessions quickly returned. But across the rest of the month, Kain sometimes heard faint weeping echoing through the east wing of Baron when the dark afterglow of his nightmares kept him awake at night. It wasn't hard to put a face to those strangled cries.

***

"No, Kain, don't let her grab the meat from you until you tell her -- all right. Close enough, I guess."

Kain sullenly rubbed the scorch mark Endir had left on his bare hand to loosen his grip on the slab of meat he'd been holding. Endir flicked her head upwards, just once, and the meat disappeared into her mouth.

Ruth watched her son while she rubbed down her own dragon's scales with a balm of beeswax; saddles and harnesses chafed the beasts, especially in colder weather. "How many times have I told you to wear gloves when you're training dragons, Kain," she said.

Kain sucked on his wound. "You never wear gloves," he mumbled around his hand.

"Do as I say, boy. Don't do as I do." Ruth capped the container of balm and walked over to him. "Let me see."

Kain showed his mother his hand, which was starting to blister.

"Not too bad," Ruth said. "Keep it clean and it should heal on its own. I hope it does. The gods know I owe enough money to the white mages. I can't even go down into Baron's lower levels without them thrusting their palms out at me. Be more careful."

Ruth returned to Foe's Blood and started a rub-down around the base of her horns. Foe's murmur of approval carried over the other warm sounds that Kain associated with Baron's aviary since he was old enough to toddle behind Ricard and Ruth as they worked. Saddles thudded onto broad backs, chains rattled, metal bits jingled, Dragoons spoke firm commands. Kain also heard the cheerful repetition of praise, as Dragoons other than himself started bonding with their new hatchlings. It was a special sound you heard only once a year for a few weeks -- though Kain supposed if anyone ever asked him for an everyday approximation, he'd liken it to the sound of children getting excited over kittens.

Something was different this year, though. It was easier to pick out individual voices from the din, whereas the days that followed the arrival of the baby dragons was normally a buzzing stew of generally cheerful sound. Kain had quickly discovered the reason for the unusual quietness during one of his trips to fetch fresh meat and water for Foe's Blood and Endir: There weren't nearly as many Dragoons looking after whelps this year compared to previous years. Even the number of adult dragons had dropped; Kain took note of how many stalls and nesting boxes were cold and bare.

"Grab another bit of meat, Kain, and try again. Go for the Chocobo liver this time. I don't think she's as crazy about it, so maybe she won't take your hand off."

Ruth's voice was quite cheerful, a marked change from the low, dangerous half-hiss she'd used with Ricard last night. Kain's bedroom wasn't far from his parents' chamber, and his young ears picked up the conversation they'd had last night, hours after the castle had settled down to sleep. Not every word made its way to Kain, but he could still taste the angry fear behind Ruth's patchy sentences.

_"--your mouth shut about the airships, Ricard. People who talk too much against Baron are vanishing. Haven't you noticed, you rock-headed goat?"_

_"But my dear, my cub--"_ Ricard frequently used terms of endearment and warm tones with Ruth, neither of which made their way into many of his conversations with Kain. _"--I don't want Kain to inherit a Dragoon force that doesn't even use_ dragons _, for the gods' sake."_

_"Yours is not to reason why, Ricard."_

_"Do you know what Baigan told me? 'The first Dragoons were specifically trained to hunt dragons, and you lot can get_ that _job done quickly and safely with airships.'"_ Kain couldn't see Ricard from his bed, but he imagined his father felt the same sick squirming in his stomach as _he_ did. _"Can you imagine, Ruth? Slaughtering wild dragons on sight, using artillery? Not even giving them a fighting chance at a warrior's death? I'll have nothing to do with that heresy."_

_"Do you think I'm not heartsick at the very idea of hurting dragons, Ricard? Do you think I'm brain-dead? But I need to think of staying alive and whole for Kain's sake, and so do you. I'll not tell you again--"_

"Kain!" Ruth's voice sliced through Kain's reminiscence of the previous night's events. "Are you thick? I told you to get more food for Endir. Hop to it."

"Sorry, mother." Kain started towards the supply sheds. He kept his head down, but he watched his mother from the corner of his eye. From his private angle, he saw Ruth press her forehead against her dragon's snout, and caught sight the heaving sigh he wasn't supposed to see.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is self-explanatory. God, I hope so. 
> 
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Winter came. Baron froze, then thawed. Spring's trembling warmth gradually steadied itself, then deepened to the relentless heat of summer.  
  
As the days grew longer, Kain absorbed a troubling lesson along with the hot sunshine: When things got bad, the necessary change that always _seemed_ to be around the corner almost never arrived with any kind of fanfare or decisive finality.  
  
True, history demonstrated that sometimes a single straw could snap a camel's back and trigger a very sudden change in the winds. But more often, people forced to exist in the shadow of ill times went about their work with their heads down and their mouths shut while their entire world trembled on the precipice of oblivion for months -- or years -- at a time.  
  
Ruth Highwind, for instance, still raised her voice whenever a subordinate fed a standard meal to a dragon that required a special diet. She still spoke harshly to Foe's Blood whenever the Baronian Red got ornery. She still barked at Kain when she caught him daydreaming instead of focusing all his attention on socializing Endir, who was now the size of a colt and getting very good at throwing her weight around.  
  
But when the Royal court's closest advisors began visiting pubs and kindling propaganda about the superiority and might of Baron, Ruth said nothing. And when the Red Wings started using unoccupied portions of the aviary for the storage of airship parts, she still said nothing.  
  
Ricard, however, said something.  
  
When the King ordered the Dragoons to thin out a large population of dragons living peaceably on the western fringe of the kingdom, Ricard stood in the receiving foyer before the king's throne room and said what he thought to the king's closest guards. The guards' eyes offered no reaction to Ricard's red-hot words, but their fingers hovered just above the hilts of their weapons until the Dragoons departed the foyer with a final refusal.  
  
The incident passed and the wild dragons lived, but Kain noticed the air between Ricard and Ruth no longer held much warmth. In fact, Kain's mother found more and more tasks to perform away from the aviary.  
  
There came a day that burned particularly hot, and just as Kain was considering a dip in the moat (despite the fact the continued heat had blessed the water with a stagnant green fragrance), Ruth poked her head into his bedchamber.  
  
"Meet me in the aviary," she said, "and don't dawdle."  
  
She was gone before Kain could think to follow her. He took ten minutes to straighten up his sweat-sticky clothes and hair, but not any longer; while Ruth's voice wasn't necessarily urgent or desperate, it contained a note that made Kain's heart quicken.  
  
Kain made his way across Baron's courtyards and entered the aviary, where a solid wall of stale heat met him face-first. Despite its ample ventilation, the high-ceilinged wooden building could never stay cool in the summer. Not that the dragons minded, of course, but the staff wobbled -- almost staggered -- as they saw to their tasks with runnels of sweat trickling down their temples.  
  
Ruth didn't look up at Kain when he approached. Sitting on the floor next to Foe's Blood and Endir, she concentrated on cutting juicy wedges from a ruby-red melon with a dagger. She systematically fed the wedges to Foe, who scarfed each one before Endir could make a grab for them.  
  
Finally, Ruth stood up and motioned for Kain to draw near. She handed the last melon wedge to him, and he immediately pressed it to his mouth. Ruth silently slapped him upside his head and pointed at Endir. Kain sheepishly gave the fruit to the young dragon, who bolted it eagerly.  
  
Ruth watched Endir eat. "We're going on a short trip, Kain," she said. "Get a leash for your dragon; she's coming too."  
  
Kain looked at her in surprise. "Where are we going?"  
  
"Just to the Chocobo forest south and west of the castle. When you've found a leash for Endir, come back here and help me gather up some supplies. We'll be camping overnight."  
  
"Are you bringing Foe's Blood?"  
  
"No need," Ruth said. "The forest is just half a day's walk from here. We'll make it before nightfall, unless you keep nattering at me and wasting time. Get moving."  
  
Kain flagged down a weary aviary apprentice, who helped him scrounge up the leash he needed. The braided strips of Behemoth gut ended with a fur-lined noose designed to automatically tighten whenever the dragon on the other end pulled -- and from what Kain had experienced while training Endir, a taut leash was more or less a constant.  
  
With Kain's help, Ruth gathered up two supply bundles: One for her, and a smaller one that Kain carried on his back. Mother and son said little to one another as they worked, but Ruth murmured a promise of swift return to Foe's Blood, who worriedly thumped her tail against the floor of her stall.  
  
Finally, they leashed Endir and left the aviary just as the sun was starting its descent. The light was still cruel, but at least there was a breeze. Kain gasped quietly with relief.  
  
"Quickly now," Ruth said, and began a brisk trot south. The route would take them through the least-populated area of the town that wrapped around the roots of Baron castle. From there, the kingdom had only gentle hills and farmland to offer for several miles.  
  
There was absolutely nothing strange about the sight of Dragoons or aviary staff leading young dragons to the open fields outside of town; after all, the close walls of the aviary made it a less-than-ideal place for lessons in flight and combat. The few people Kain and his mother passed as they abandoned civilization didn't spare any second glances.  
  
Still, Ruth's silence made his legs tremble with dread. He took wide, half-jumping steps to keep up with her, and kept his eyes on the ground. Even Endir was sober; she didn't rebel or pull at her lead. She walked behind Kain as obediently as an old dog.  
  
When they reached the edge of the Chocobo Forest and the open fields gave way to brooks and the dreamy smell of poplar trees, Ruth visibly began to thaw. She talked more as they walked, and pointed out the tracks and traces the native wildlife left in the marshy ground.  
  
Kain likewise began to relax. He knew few Chocobos would approach them as long as he had Endir, but he still kept his eyes peeled for a possible glimpse of one of the birds' elusive white-feathered cousins.  
  
"Let's stop here," Ruth said when they arrived at a small, dry clearing thickly ringed by ancient trees. She pulled off her pack and let it thud to the ground. "I have something to show you while there's still enough light to see by, then we'll make dinner. For now, though, let Endir off her leash."  
  
"Oh! Uh--" Kain reflexively grabbed double-handfuls of Endir's leash. "Are you sure, mother?"  
  
Ruth put her balled-up fists on her hips. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Let me get the opinion of the _other_ aviary matron who's been breeding and training dragons since you were a speck." She turned her head one way, then the other, then shrugged exaggeratedly. "Looks like she's not with us today."  
  
Kain slackened his hold on the leash, but he still didn't let go. "If--if I let her go, she might not return."  
  
"Well, she certainly won't return if she catches wind of your mistrust," Ruth said. "I get why you're nervous, Kain. This is a simple step in dragon-training, but an important one: You need to let her hunt her own dinner. If she's bonded to you, she'll come back. And if she's not too fond of you..."  
  
Ruth trailed off. She shrugged again.  
  
"I don't know if I'm ready!" Kain's voice cracked a little. He felt despair rise in his throat like vomit. _By the gods, I won't cry. I won't ever cry_.  
  
Ruth sighed, but the sound contained no exasperation. She rubbed the underside of Endir's chin with her open palm. "I didn't bring food for her, Kain. If you keep her tied up, she can't hunt and she'll go hungry. So what's it going to be?"  
  
"I'll hunt for her dinner."  
  
"No you won't. I have plans for the rest of this daylight, and we've already wasted enough of it."  
  
Kain clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from trembling any harder. He filled his lungs with a shaky breath, reached up, and slipped the leash from Endir's neck.  
  
The dragon locked eyes with Kain for a moment. Then she turned and dashed deeper into the forest with an explosion of leaf-litter. Her wings, normally flaccid, fluttered behind her like flags in a strong wind.  
  
Ruth was clearly impressed. "She'll be a strong flyer when the time comes," she said. Then she gathered up Kain in her arms and pressed him to her chest. "Endir will be back. You'll see."  
  
A few sneaky tears squeezed their way out of the corner of Kain's eyes, but he didn't panic. He knew it was between himself and his mother. Ricard would never know.  
  
***  
  
Ruth guided Kain to a tangled patch of greenery near their campsite. She held up a hand to stop his advance, then knelt beside the jumble of foliage with a grunt. She extracted her knife and started hacking at it.  
  
"Look, Kain. Look at this."  
  
Ruth held out a thick, stiff stalk covered in long thorns. The sliced end bled pungent, watery sap that immediately touched Kain's memory.  
  
"Is that dragonthorn?" Kain asked.  
  
Ruth nodded. "Good boy. You probably haven't seen it in its raw form before. We usually mash it down to a pulp before feeding it to sick dragons." She continued sawing into the tough vegetation. In a short time, a small pyramid of stalks piled up beside her thigh.  
  
Kain watched her. "Can I help?"  
  
"Not this time, I don't think," Ruth said. She puffed, pulled, and added another stalk to her collection. "You need to know what you're doing when working with dragonthorn. Sure, it does a world of good for ill dragons, and it even stimulates their appetites when they get fussy, but it's pretty poisonous for humans."  
  
Kain was alarmed. "But it's OK for you to touch?"  
  
Ruth chuckled as her blade chewed through another stalk. "Dragonthorn won't hurt you unless you try chewing it, love. If some of the juice gets into your stomach, you risk delirium, blindness, and death. Touching it with your bare hands is usually fine, but better safe than sorry. I just wanted to show you where it grows."  
  
"Oh," Kain said. He silently watched his mother harvest the dragonthorn for a minute longer. Then he blurted "Are you mad at father?"  
  
The question had been gestating in Kain's mind for days. He'd never intended to just _ask_ it; his brain spasmed and purged the question of its own volition, as if it understood Kain would never again be alone with his mother anywhere as safe as this quiet grove drenched in honey-coloured summer sunlight.  
  
Ruth froze mid-slice. The hand holding her knife shook a little. Kain could see that for the first time since he'd been born, his mother was at a loss for words.  
  
Ruth recovered quickly, and Kain saw her mouth start to form the word _No_. She stopped herself, however, and said "So you've noticed, then?"  
  
Kain nodded.  
  
"You're clearly growing up," Ruth said as she finished cutting through the last stalk of dragonthorn, "so I'll give you an adult answer."  
  
She heaved to her feet and offered Kain a hand. He scrambled up beside her.  
  
"The short answer is 'Yes.' I'm angry with Ricard," Ruth said. "The long answer is 'I'm angry with him _because_ I love him.' But let's pack up our stuff and talk about this over some dinner. I'm hungry enough to eat a raw dragon without salt."  
  
***  
  
Kain and Ruth set out snares when they first arrived at camp, and when they returned to the traps, they found a couple of rabbits waiting. Kain helped his mother skin the little beasts, who were nice and plump after a summer of eating greens.  
  
"Let me tell you something about Ricard, Kain." There was a wet, adhesive sound as Ruth peeled the rabbit's fur from its muscle. "People like your father change the world ... for better or worse. They get ideals in their heads, and when they look around and see the world doesn't match in step to those ideals, they say 'This isn't the way things should be. I'll fix this.'"  
  
Ruth lowered the hand holding her skinning knife down onto her knee. She stared into the campfire, which shifted, hissed, and sent a few sparks spiraling into the air.  
  
"I don't know if I'd call Ricard kind," Ruth said, "but he's noble, and he's driven to protect his values because he believes doing so will make the world a better place. Like I said, Kain, people like your father change the world -- and they make a lot of enemies as a result. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"  
  
"No," Kain said honestly.  
  
Ruth grunted, fetched a long branch lying beside her, and started to whittle one end to a sharp point. "Baron is not at peace, Kain," she said. "Oh, we're not officially at war, but His Majesty is throwing out orders that aren't fitting for a kingdom that's supposed to have a non-aggression pact with its neighbours. Your father has taken notice of the King's actions, and he's decided to speak out. And out."  
  
Kain followed Ruth's lead and started whittling a spit for his own rabbit. "And you're mad because you don't believe he should say anything, mother?"  
  
Kain couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice, and he felt sick at heart when his words made his mother flinch slightly.  
  
"Oh, Kain. You must see me as a coward."  
  
"No! Mother--"  
  
Ruth held up a hand; The tips of her fingers were slick and black with rabbit's blood. "It's OK, Kain. I _am_ a coward. I stay quiet because I think it'll protect you, protect the dragons ... but deep in my heart, I know I'm fooling myself. I'm just going day-by-day, doing whatever's necessary to keep us safe. That's why I rushed you out here to collect dragonthorn with me. Ricard's been running his mouth off again, and I was worried the King's men might get creative about finding ways to shut him up. Just a precaution."  
  
"You scared me a bit," Kain said with a weak laugh.  
  
Ruth released a barking, bitter laugh of her own as she impaled her rabbit's corpse on her stick. "Kain, if you ever take one lesson from me, let it be this: Adults don't know what the hell they're doing most of the time. We tell you kids to 'grow up' and 'be a man,' and that's almost always terrible advice. Now help me cook these rabbits."  
  
Mother and son spent the rest of the night talking about general dragon breeding and wellness far into the night while the cooking rabbits dropped spatters of grease into the campfire's embers.  
  
Kain brought up once more that he was worried Endir wouldn't return from her hunt. Again, Ruth told him to trust his friend.  
  
The next morning, just as the first rays of the sun started burning away last night's dew, Kain grunted as a significant weight dropped on his chest. He opened his eyes, and immediately noticed the sky was eclipsed by Endir's long snout. Then he _smelled_ the half-chewed Chocobo drumstick lying on his chest before he _saw_ it. The few feathers clinging to the meat-chunk were snow-white. They stirred in the hot wind.

Tears spilled from Kain's eyes and touched the corners of his grin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nature's most irritable and unpredictable animals:
> 
> -The hippopotamus
> 
> -The Nile crocodile
> 
> -Kain Highwind undergoing puberty

At first, Kain felt proud that Ruth had talked to him so directly, so frankly during that night in the woods. By the time Kain returned to Baron with his mother, however, the memory of their conversation about Ricard and the King made Kain feel like his stomach was full of bad food that he wasn't allowed to throw up.  
  
The heat only seemed to intensify as the summer wore on. Even the night air remained oven-hot. The earth itself smelled tired and sour.  
  
When Kain wasn't slogging through his chores, he spent the afternoons huddled with Cecil and Rosa in whatever shade Baron's courtyards could offer. The friends sat as still as Kaipo lizards, only expending energy to travel with the shadows that sheltered them from the worst of the sunlight.  
  
The days seemed to bleed into an endless, humid smear of misery, so when he thought back on that wretched summer, Kain couldn't remember the exact day he broke Cecil's arm. He could only remember (not without some bitter amusement) that everything started when he pulled a few palm-sized petals off a large yellow flower unlucky enough to be growing within reach of his shady sanctuary. He sighed and used the petals to dab at the oily sweat on his cheeks and forehead, wincing as he touched the spray of sensitive red bumps that had seemingly erupted across his face overnight.  
  
"Oh, Kain! That poor flower!" Rosa's tone was light and teasing, but Kain flinched as if she'd scolded him. Any negative word from her, regardless of tone, pricked him like a knife. Only his parents' voices held more authority over his emotions.  
  
"Sorry," Kain mumbled, feeling like a damn fool when he realized he had no idea if he was apologizing to Rosa or the scalped flower. Rosa smiled at him anyway, and for a few seconds, delight poured over his dark mood.  
  
It didn't occur to Kain until years and years later that he and Rosa likely shared many of the same insecurities as they tumbled from childhood into adolescence together. No doubt Rosa fought her own battles with bad skin and sudden mood swings, and she also likely experienced truly alarming moments when her body seemingly acted of its own accord -- but Kain never, ever saw anything but perfection any time he laid eyes on Rosa, even when the heat sought to tear them all down. Her soft face still shone with health in the baking courtyard, and her smile was still brighter than the ivory horns of a newborn Mysidian blue dragon. Her sun-gold curls swayed gently as she fanned them with a wood-and-paper fan Cecil made for her a week back.  
  
Kain scowled at the fan. It was simply-built, but Rosa had received it like an heirloom. Kain was never gifted with any pocket money, and most of his time was taken up by studies, training, and chores; he could never save or earn the money to buy Rosa the trinkets he often fantasized about gifting her with. He wasn't clever enough with his hands to make anything like Cecil's fan, either -- even if it _was_ a silly, stupid, and cheap thing.  
  
_Cecil._ Whenever Kain looked at the boy he considered his very best friend, he felt irritation and dissatisfaction shoot through him in hot, thin wires, closely chased by guilt and shame. Kain had spent every free day of the previous summer with Cecil, catching grasshoppers in the weeds and hunting for frogs in the marshy grounds next to the moat. And though Kain pushed through the winter nights with dreams of returning to those long summer afternoons, he quickly discovered there was no magic left in rounding up grasshoppers and frogs.  
  
Kain could sense Cecil's confusion and hurt whenever he called off their games, or when he simply refused to get his feet wet over a senseless hunt for dumb creatures. But he understood why Cecil would still find pleasure in last summer's games, since the snow-haired boy still wore his childishness on his face. Cecil bore no trace of the bumps that flared across Kain's cheeks like dragon-pox, but he had also become shorter and rounder than Kain somehow.  
  
Kain couldn't even find humour in the sudden disparity. Cecil's gentle eyes, easy smile, and even temper used to put Kain at ease, but observing Cecil's serenity _now_ only made Kain think of cows, dogs, and other neurotically obedient animals. And he was damned sick of watching people get led around.  
  
Kain's frustrations quickly congealed into a need to shout, kick, and throw. He leapt to his feet and said, "I'm done with doing nothing. Come on, Cecil! Let's wrestle."  
  
Cecil smiled up at him. "No thanks, Kain. It's awfully hot."  
  
Somehow, Cecil flicking his dull, horsey smile _up_ at Kain enraged him more than being talked _down_ to by anyone, anywhere. Kain's vision turned red for a second before he reached down and yanked Cecil up on his feet. "Come on!" He said again to distract himself from Cecil's shocked yelp of pain. "I'm tired of sitting around."  
  
Kain swung Cecil out of the shade, and the boy went spinning into the white fire of midday. Cecil squinted and raised his free hand to his eyes. Kain, naturally keen-eyed thanks to the gifts passed down by his Dragoon ancestors, was less bothered by the transition from shadow to scalding light. While Cecil staggered, Kain hooked one foot around Cecil's ankles and sent his quarry plunging to the ground. The humid air filled with the smell of crushed flowers.  
  
"K-Kain!" Cecil wheezed, struggling to pull himself up on all fours. "Please. I don't want--"  
  
Kain slammed his knee down in the centre of Cecil's back and reveled in the small, mewling cry that escaped from his friend when his face hit the dirt once again. Kain folded Cecil's captured arm behind his shoulders, and the pleas escalated into begging.  
  
"Kain!" Rosa said, her voice sharp with alarm. "Let him go!"  
  
Rosa's distress thinned the red haze behind Kain's eyeballs for a second, but it reformed in a thick blanket. The shadows that visited him at night came alive in his heart and whispered to him. What gave Rosa the right to favour Cecil's company over his? Kain was strong, fast, and he had noble lineage. Cecil had a dull smile, a face still rounded by baby fat, and a ridiculous paper fan.  
  
_Show your strength to her, Highwind. Show her. Show--_  
  
The clean white _snap_ of Cecil's breaking arm remained with Kain for the rest of his adolescence, and the betrayed, sobbing scream that followed remained with Kain for the rest of his life.  
  
**  
  
It was well past midnight before Ruth Highwind said a word to Kain. He wasn't hard to find; though he kept himself together long enough to shakily deliver the grey-faced Cecil to Baron's white mages, he slipped back to the courtyard's shadows as soon as the opportunity for escape presented itself. There, he stared out at the gathering night with wide, dry eyes until the grass lit up with cricket-song and the flowers exhaled the last of their musk.  
  
He didn't move when Ruth stole up beside him. She was smoking a pipe packed with an herb that produced a thick, green smell. She squatted next to him with a long exhale.  
  
"I owe the mages a lot more money now," she said tonelessly, "and if you think that gil is coming out of my own purse, you've got another think coming."  
  
_I'm sorry_ , Kain tried to say, but the words were frozen in his gut, sealed, inaccessible. Through every second of his trembling meditation, he'd resisted cracking open his soul and examining its contents; he was terrified he wouldn't find a shred of remorse for snapping Cecil's arm like a dry branch.  
  
"I'll work it off," he told his mother.  
  
"You bet you will." Whatever Ruth was smoking, she took it from her mouth long enough to drink from a wineskin made of dragon wing leather. She sighed and handed the skin to Kain.  
  
"Take a sip," she said. "A _small_ one. You're stiffer than a dead coeurl. And for the gods' sake--"  
  
"Don't tell father."  
  
"Don't tell your -- right."  
  
Kain did as he was told and swallowed a mouthful of the sour draught. He shuddered at the taste, but be also felt some of the ice inside him thaw. Tears pricked behind his eyeballs. He willed them back to his depths.  
  
Ruth studied him, her pipe dangling from one hand between her legs, and her cheek against the palm of her free hand. "Got something to say, Kain?"  
  
"I just wanted to -- I wanted to teach--"  
  
"'Teach Cecil a lesson?' Ruth asked. "Is that what you were going to say?" She took a deep drag off her pipe and grimaced.  
  
_Teach him to fight like a real man_ , Kain tried to respond, but he had no fire left for contradictions. He dropped his head on his knees and silently wished his mother would run her fingers through his hair as usual, and reassure him that everything would be all right.  
  
She didn't. Instead, Ruth asked "Do you remember that talk we had when I took you with me to cut dragonthorn? Do you remember what I said about your father?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"'Think so' isn't good enough, Kain. This is important."  
  
Kain lifted his head. "I do remember. You said he ... isn't kind. But he's noble."  
  
"Both true," Ruth said. "I also said people like Ricard have the strength, the will, the _iron_ , to change the world. To turn it into the kind of place you believe it ought to be."  
  
She took another pull and offered a cloud of smoke to the black sky. "When I talk about how much you're like Ricard, I'm not just being twee. You carry his spark, his fire. You can do anything, Kain, and I think as you grow up, you'll attract the kind of people who will do anything _for_ you. But--"  
  
Ruth paused and tapped the mouth of her pipe on the ground.  
  
"--but if you don't leash whatever animal inside you decided it was acceptable to break your best friend's arm today, your soul will rot, and you'll try to change the world according to your tantrums and silly rages. Then the people who love you will get hurt. And die."  
  
A small shock wiggled its way down Kain's heart. "That won't happen," he said softly. Then he banged his fists on his knees. "I won't let it happen."  
  
"I know you won't," Ruth said. She took one more swallow from her wineskin and watered the flowers beside her with the dregs. "You're a good boy, Kain. You have your problems, sure, but you also walked Cecil to the mages. You didn't just run away. That took guts."  
  
Kain glowed a little, but then he thought of something that made his stomach feel slick and icy again. "Does father know about this?"  
  
"When I saw Cecil, he begged me not to tell Ricard about what happened," Ruth said wryly. "Said it was an accident. Said it was his own fault. He doesn't miss much, that boy. He knows what Ricard will do to you."  
  
Kain swallowed back the sour nausea that crept up his throat.  
  
Ruth regarded Kain's face and sighed deeply. "Ricard's on a flight. Maybe we'll keep this fiasco between us," she said. "I don't have the stamina to deal with it. Just ... try, Kain. Try to be decent. Never forget the world doesn't revolve around you."  
  
"I won't," Kain whispered as he took count of his slowing heartbeat. He waited for his mother to offer to take him home, but Ruth didn't move. She sat as still as a rabbit in that garden, staring at emptiness.  
  
Mother and son sat together for a long time.  
  
Doing nothing.  
  
Saying nothing.  
  
Listening to everything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME, WHEN I STARTED THIS: "I'll make a story about Kain Highwind's past. It will be informative. Lightweight, fun stuff."
> 
> [Five chapters later]
> 
> "oh no"
> 
> Forgive me for getting in your face and saying "Get it? Get it??", but I ought to point out the end paragraph references [Heavensward](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350495), the one-shot sequel to this story (there will be one more story when this one's done. I'm not finished with you, Kain goddamn Highwind).
> 
> And, hey! If you enjoy my writing, I'd be honoured if you [joined my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/nadiaoxford). :)
> 
> You can even join if you hate my writing and you just want to add swear words to my novel as I post it. I'm not picky where money's involved.

Kain thought to avoid Cecil indefinitely —or for a few months, at least—but a stern inner voice told him he was being a coward. The quieter, darker voice from his dreams seethed underneath _that_ voice and assured him he'd never get to see Rosa again if he didn't patch things up with Cecil.

Kain pressed his lips together and muffled the second voice when he sought out Cecil to ask forgiveness for breaking his arm. It was a short hunt; Kain had a feeling he'd find Cecil in the courtyard where the event had occurred.

Sure enough, Cecil was there alone, taking shelter from the afternoon heat in the thin shadows of the castle walls. Though Kain knew Cecil had initially been ordered to wear a sling, it was gone now; his arm had seemingly healed quickly. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin and his left arm wrapped around his legs. He drew in the dirt with a stick he held in his right hand.

Kain gathered himself up and squatted next to Cecil. "Hello," he said.

Cecil's dream-coloured eyes lit up. "Kain! I've missed you. Where have you been?"

"It should be a little obvious, shouldn't it?"

Cecil's face dropped. "Your father didn't punish you, did he?" he asked. "I told your mother it was an accident, and you didn't mean for it to happen. Oh, Kain. I'm so sorry—"

"Ricard never found out," Kain said a little more sharply than he intended. He took a breath and dialed his mood back. "Cecil, I'm sorry. I was too rough. I've been feeling ... weird lately. I guess I took it out on you. I hope you can forgive me."

Cecil beamed. "I'm just happy you're talking to me again. Want to go fishing? Yesterday I saw a catfish in the moat that was as big as Leviathan, I swear."

The last thing Kain wanted to do was squelch through muck to cast a line in the moat's algae-scummed waters, but he couldn't help but smile back at Cecil's wide grin.

"Sure. Let's catch that damn fish."

***

Nights finally began to cool off as fall crept into summer's territory. But just before the weather turned for good, the last of the vicious season bore down on Kain and claimed his father's life.

When the first news about Ricard being mauled to death by his own dragon breathlessly criss-crossed Baron, Kain felt like he'd just learned the sky and ground switched places for the day. It was impossible; unthinkable. Even the _suggestion_ was offensive. Not that Kain was worried, but when he jogged to the aviary to find his mother, he couldn't stop his heart from leaping into his throat with every beat.

Kain's eyes didn't even have time to adjust to the dim light of the aviary before a wall of chaos bashed him full in the face. He felt a hand grab for his collar and warn "Stay back, Master Highwind" at the same time he heard his mother say with terrifying shrillness, "Get back, Kain! Get back!"

Only then did Kain notice the bellows of fury that pumped continuously from the stall belonging to Foe's Blood, Ruth's dragon. The stall was closed up and locked from the outside. The latch jiggled precariously as Foe threw her bulk against the sealed double-doors in a steady rhythm resembling the approaching footsteps of some tremendous beast.

Ruth had her left hand on the latch. A slab of meat dangled from her right hand; it trembled slightly. A wide, loose crescent of assorted onlookers half-surrounded Ruth, including aviary staff, mages, and Baronian soldiers with drawn weapons.

Kain's breath caught when he spotted the soldiers. "What are you doing?" he shouted. He tried to make his voice thunderous, but it cracked and broke before he was halfway done with "you."

Ruth pointed the first finger of her right hand at Kain; her other fingers still gripped the piece of meat. "Shut up, Kain Highwind," she snarled. "You hear me? Not another word."

Kain's questions about Ricard died on his lips. He couldn't make heads nor tails of the scene in front of him, but he instinctively knew the disarray would not exist if his father was whole and well.

"Let us pass, Lady Highwind," one of the guards said sharply. "Why deter us? The dragon is responsible for Lord Highwind's death. Law dictates we destroy it."

Kain's heart plummeted to the soles of his boots and shattered.

"Oh, you're going to play the pity game, are you?" Ruth spat. "Prey on the bereaved widow, use her grief to justify diminishing everything her husband fought and died for. A fitting plan for His Majesty and his rats."

"Lady Highwind! What are you—"

Ruth tossed the slab of meat at the feet of the soldiers and mages. "I pulled that out of Ricard's hands before they took—took him away." Ruth took a breath and swallowed hard, but the fire quickly re-ignited behind her eyes. "It was part of Skyrunner's supper. Ricard obviously wanted me to see."

"See what?"

Ruth kicked a bit of dirt and straw towards the slab of venison. "See that it was tampered with! Skyrunner's food is dusted with Silenus Root. Look at it."

The soldiers looked blankly at each other, then at the white mage holding onto Kain's collar.

The mage cleared her throat. "Silenus Root is a major ingredient in Bacchus Wine," she said, "which, as I'm sure you know, isn't a 'wine' so much as an elixir crafted to drive fighters into a frenzy when they need an extra push in battle."

"Can the root really drive a dragon mad?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Possibly," the mage returned. "It can cause a man's heart to explode if he chews it raw. It's dangerously potent when it's unprocessed."

Ruth turned her fiery eyes on the mage. "You saw Skyrunner before you sedated him. You saw his red eyes and the foam on his lips. That's not normal behavior for a dragon, even an angry one. The poor boy was poisoned. Made to go into a frenzy."

"'Frenzy' is a good word for it," a weak voice offered. Kain turned his head and saw a young aviary apprentice sitting on a bale of straw some distance from the group. His forehead, pale as milk, was cradled in his palm. "Skyrunner's one of the best-tempered dragons we have, so when he started causing a ruckus, I went to check on the problem," he said. "He immediately jumped me. He would have killed me if Ricard hadn't—hadn't—"

The apprentice flicked his eyes up at Kain, then back down at the floor. "Your dad put himself between me and Skyrunner until the mages sedated him, Kain," he said. "I'll never be able to repay my debt to your family. Never."

Ruth pointed at the soldiers. "There's not a mark on Skyrunner's hide, not a damned scratch," she blazed. "Look me in the eye and tell me whoever set this up didn't know full well that Ricard would sooner get himself killed than land a single blow on his dragon."

"What are you suggesting, Ruth," one soldier asked. His voice carried a strong whiff of danger.

"Do I have to draw you a picture," Ruth said, "or are you waiting for me to admit with my own mouth that the King of Baron is assassinating his critics and dissenters though shoddily-staged ‘accidents?' Because I just said it, and I'll gladly say it again."

The white mage behind Kain gasped softly.

"We've wasted enough time," one of the soldiers snarled. He turned to his companion. "Grab her. I'll kill Ricard's dragon."

Without breaking her gaze on the soldiers, Ruth jiggled the latch holding Foe's Blood at bay. The Baronian Red dragon drank up the message behind the sound, and she threw herself against the door with a bellow to match the Hallowed Father's own voice.

"Don't come any closer." Ruth didn't scream or shout, but her words carried over the din effortlessly. "Not one step closer."

The white mage behind Kain breathed an oath to the gods as she wrapped her arms around him and began pulling him out of the aviary, away from Ruth and the guards. Kain was so surprised by the mage's burst of strength that he didn't think to kick and holler for his mother until they exited the building.

But Ruth didn't chase after him. As a general chaos of jostling bodies filled the void where he and the mage stood moments before, Kain's mind seized on the image of Ruth standing with her hand on that latch, her finger jabbing out at the King's guards like the tip of a spear.

***

Hours ticked on. The sun crawled across the sky.

Kain lay on his bed with his hands folded on his chest. He concentrated on every breath, felt his lungs swell and deflate over and over.

In. Out.

Kain watched a spider set its sticky dinner table in the ceiling corner closest to him. He was faintly disappointed when it eventually became too dark to see the spider's handiwork, but he didn't fetch a light. He didn't do anything.

In. Out.

Kain supposed he fell asleep—or blacked out—during his meditation because he never heard or saw Jacob Skyreach sit on the edge of his bed. He only became aware of the world around him again when the Dragoon took his hand and patted it.

"It's true, isn't it?" Kain asked the ceiling. "My father is dead, isn't he?"

"He is dead, Kain Highwind," Skyreach said softly.

"And my mother—" Kain closed his eyes again and saw Ruth's hand lift the latch of her dragon's stall. "My mother—"

Skyreach squeezed Kain's hand a little. "Lady Highwind is fine," he said, "or at least as fine as can be expected, given the loss of your father."

Kain turned his head on his pillow and looked at Skyreach. "Did she sic Foe's Blood on the soldiers?"

"No," Skyreach said with a small smile. "She certainly put the fear of the gods into them, though." Then his smile dimmed a little as his eyes clouded over in thought. "I don't know what's going to happen when the sun rises. I only know this: You and your mother need one another. I'll bring you to her."

Kain propped himself on his elbow. "It's dark out. Is she still at the aviary?"

"Yes," Skyreach said. "She's protecting your father's dragon." Skyreach didn't add " _and herself_ ," but Kain picked up the suggestion the Dragoon left scattered in the air. Ruth's defiance and accusations were treasonous; she'd be expected to answer for them sooner than later.

But Foe's Blood could keep her safe tonight. So could he.

Kain swung his legs over the side of his bed. When he tried to stand, his knees turned to water and he crumpled into a heap on the floor. He waved away Skyreach's concerned hands and pulled himself up using his bed frame.

"I'm ready," he told Skyreach.

He walked side-by-side with the Dragoon as they slipped down Baron's quiet corridors, instinctively keeping away from the flickering halos of the wall-mounted lanterns. There was no need to tell one another that they ought to be as inconspicuous as possible. They exhaled simultaneously when they exited the castle.

Kain and Skyreach silently trod down the worn dirt path that led to the aviary while the grass stirred with the movement of bugs and rodents that favoured the moons' cool copper-and-silver light over the glare of the sun. Kain listened to the crickets' late summer songs with bemusement; they hadn't altered a single note since he learned of his father's death. Didn't they know the world was changing? Didn't they know nothing would ever be the same again?

Someone started up the path towards them. Kain's heart squirreled up into his throat until he realized the figure was wearing the dark moisture-resistant frock of an aviary apprentice and not a soldier's uniform. The three met and nodded at each other.

"Thank you for delivering him, Ser Skyreach," the apprentice said. "I'll keep him safe tonight. I swear it."

The oath prompted Kain to look closely at the newcomer. He immediately recognized the man his father died saving—and Kain could see the "man" wasn't many summers older than himself.

Skyreach brushed off his hands and bowed his head. "Thank you, Vasvilla. Tell Lady Highwind I'll be by later tonight to discuss her options for her safe passage."

Kain nearly stopped breathing. He hadn't considered the possibility that he and Ruth might be spirited away from Baron. His head spun at the thought of leaving home—of leaving the dragons, Cecil, and—

"Ser Skyreach!" Kain blurted.

"Yes?"

Kain's cheeks burned, but he pressed the words out of his chest. "If something happens to my mother and I, please tell Cecil that I'll miss him. And tell Rosa that I—I—"

Kain's fire faded. His thoughts and words collapsed in a jumble.

Skyreach smiled, put his hand on Kain's shoulder and gently kissed the top of his head. "Wherever you go and whatever you do, Kain Highwind, I know you'll bring light to your father's name. Good night."

The weight of the kiss lingered on Kain's scalp as he watched Skyreach half-sprint back towards Baron. Behind him, the aviary apprentice—Vasvilla—cleared his throat.

"Your father was a hard-ass, Kain," he said. "He scared the hell out of me, frankly. But there wasn't a nobler person on this earth. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Kain said. He suddenly felt deeply exhausted, not simply mentally or physically fatigued, but as if his soul itself had been tattered by a hurricane of ice shards. The quiet, dark voice inside him suggested with a sneer that his father had thrown away his life to protect this plain-faced lowborn muck-shoveler, and Kain couldn't find the energy to rebuke it.

"Your mother's with Skyrunner," Vasvilla said. "I'll take you to her."

The aviary was quiet. The diminished dragon population was settling down to sleep, and there was little of the usual conversation and joking amongst the evening staff. The air was heavy and solemn.

Kain glanced at the stall containing Foe's Blood. It was still sealed shut and locked, though no sound bled from behind the slabs of wood and bands of iron. Then Vasvilla said "There they are," and gestured towards Skyrunner's open stall.

Skyrunner, who never failed to greet Kain with his ears pricked forward and a happy rumble in his chest, lay inert on the cold floor. His breathing was laboured and shallow. Dried froth crusted his mouth, and every exhale produced a small whine of pain.

Kain managed two staggering steps towards the dragon before a sob ripped from his depths and sent him stumbling. He heard his knees crack on the ground, but he felt nothing. He threw his arms across Skyrunner's neck and wept deeply, loudly.

Kain didn't see Ruth run her fingers through her hair, but he recognized her touch. After a few moments, she lowered her head near Kain's ear and whispered, "Skyrunner needs to sleep, hon. Why don't we sit by his side for a while and keep him warm?"

Kain let Ruth help him stand, and silently endured her gentle scolding about how he needed to take better care of his knees. They settled with their backs against Skyrunner's azure flank. Kain rested his pounding head against his mother's shoulder.

"I'm scared," he told her simply, nakedly.

"You have every reason to be," Ruth returned softly. She stroked his wet, chapped cheek with the back of her hand.

"I want to go to sleep and never wake up."

"That's not allowed," Ruth said a little more firmly. "There's no shame in being scared, but you can never stop fighting." She leaned her head against Kain's and looked straight ahead. "Let me tell you a story, Kain. The night you were born, you took your first breath and then screamed like all the ghosts of hell were after you. You were terrified—I suppose all newborns are—but you kicked and clawed so fiercely, the midwife nearly dropped you." Ruth grinned at the memory. "You've always been a fighter, Kain. Baron needs you."

"I'm not a grown-up."

"That's why I have hope for you. Now try and get some rest. Don't worry about the future. That's my job."

Despite his bone-deep weariness, Kain resisted sleep; his black dreams washed over him with an especially evil chill whenever he was upset, and he knew his current state of mind would draw out his inner darkness like a rat seeking carrion. His eyes closed regardless and his last conscious act was to brace himself.

But there was no hiss, no mirthless laugh, no suggestion of forcefully taking everything the world owed him. Instead, Kain dreamed he was holding a child, a baby boy with a wispy dusting of sun-coloured hair. The baby was swaddled in a blue blanket that matched his eyes, which peered up at him with an intensity that made Kain shake in the throes of his dream. His heart felt full enough to burst, and there was no pain, no fear, no sadness. Just light, warmth, and contentment.

Kain didn't understand any of it, but he gripped onto the vision. In the waking world, his mother silently ran her hand down Kain's hair, smoked her pipe, and kept watch over her dragons.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I'm still here. I love you. Today, smol Kain thinks keep thoughts and it goes, like, super-well for him.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the story, and thanks for taking the time to read it! If you enjoy my writing, bless u. If you like, [take a look at my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/nadiaoxford) or [throw a few pennies my way on Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A0352SP2). I'll do a monkey dance for you.

"There's the cabin. Thank the gods we found it before the sunlight gave out. Down, Foe."

Ruth wrapped herself around Kain and stiffened, protecting him from the jolts that shuddered up Foe's limbs when she hit the ground. The stout red dragon jogged across the small clearing for a few steps before slowing to a stop. She shook her head and made a concerned chuffing sound.

"Endir is here, babe," Ruth assured Foe's Blood as she slid off the dragon's back. "It was a long trip, but she kept up nicely."

Overwhelmed by the peerless excitement of hearing her name used in a casual conversation, Endir stole up behind Kain and mouthed his shoulder. It was a playful gesture, but the pale green dragon applied just enough pressure to make Kain flinch. He sighed, reached backward, and rubbed her snout.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to let her dominate you like that, Kain," Ruth said automatically. She began unstrapping their rolled-up bundles of supplies from Foe's back. "She's already flying, and she still thinks of you as a playmate, not her master. She'll never let you on her back at this rate."

As Ruth spoke, she tugged at a stubborn strap that refused to give. She clenched her teeth, set her foot against Foe's flank, and resumed her fruitless pulling. Foe watched her mistress work and produced an irritated grunt every time the straps constricted around her lower back.

Kain took a step towards Ruth, but he hadn't finished saying "Let me help you—" before Foe's Blood flicked her tail against Ruth's arm. Ruth dropped the straps and wheeled, clutching the wound. It was already bleeding; even a warning tap from a dragon capable of crushing rock and biting through a Behemoth's femur will inevitably split skin.

Ruth fell on her knees. The smell of blood cut through the fragrant late summer air. Ruth didn't move. Foe's Blood pawed restlessly at the ground and shook hindquarters, seemingly attempting to remove the bundle herself.

Kain leapt from a walk to a run. He got close enough to Ruth to notice how clearly her collection of scars and nicks stood from her pale face. He stopped, surprised, a half-second before Ruth thrust her blood-reddened palm at him.

"Never mind me," she hissed. "Help Foe. Leave me alone."

A wave of loneliness bumped Kain directly in his gut, but he instantly spun on his heel and headed to Foe's Blood. He talked to her calmly and she settled long enough for Kain to examine the straps around her. He was shocked to see Ruth had drawn the leather tight enough to bite into the dragon's scales. Kain unsheathed his dagger and cut at the straps while speaking to Foe in even, soothing tones about the procedure. She cooperated, and the job was done in a few minutes. Endir loped up to her mother and received a reassuring nuzzle.

Ruth hauled herself to her feet, wrapped her good arm around Kain and kissed him on his temple. Then she walked slowly to Foe's Blood, cupped the dragon's chin in her hand, and murmured something Kain couldn't hear. A bit of evening air blew through the clearing, and Kain shivered a little. Suddenly, he was aware of how strangely warm his mother had felt on the flight to the cabin.

"Let's make something to eat," Ruth called over her shoulder. "Something quick; I'm pretty wiped."

Kain's skin remembered the heavy warmth of his mother's embrace. He said, "Let me make it. You need to fix your arm and rest."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an invalid, pup. I can manage."

"I know you can," Kain said, "but you're still bleeding everywhere. We don't want that on our food."

A suggestion of a smile pricked at the corners of Ruth's mouth. "Don't go using logic against me, either," she said. "You sound like—"

The smile sank away from Ruth's face before it had a chance to break over the horizon. She sighed deeply. "Fine. I'll leave the food situation to you, Kain. I'll try and see what I can find in the shack to mend myself with."

"Ser Skyreach told me the Dragoons use the cabin as a hideout when times get bad," Kain said while he rummaged around in their supplies and pulled out provisions. "The King and his men don't know about it. I'm sure there's something in there you can use."

"‘When times are bad,' eh," Ruth echoed. She spat on the ground and hobbled over to the squat, well-weathered cabin, wading through knee-high clumps of straw-yellow grass to reach the door. "Make extra, Kain. I figure it's only a matter of time before the whole damn brigade joins us here."

***

The Troian woods stretched endlessly in every direction from the cabin, and they were wilder than dragons drunk on moonlight. The animals had no fear of humans; it took Kain no time to catch enough small game to feed himself, his mother, Foe's Blood, and Endir.

The Dragoons' hideout was indeed just that: A hideout. Kain skinned his prey by the firelight and wondered what kind of arrangement the Dragoons had with Troia to be allowed a hiding spot deep in the Epopts' sacred lands.

If any.

Kain rested his chin on his knees and stared into the fire, unblinking. Fat from his catch—some kind of slender dog-sized Troian mammal he didn't recognize, but looked edible—dripped, hissing, onto the embers. The dragons crunched on the soft bones of their own share just outside the campfire's halo.

Kain tried hard to make himself understand the iron rule of death. He'd seen innumerable dragons born. He'd seen them die. Ricard was no different from any living thing. When Death called, you followed. It was simple.

But it _wasn't_ simple. Kain had never seen or heard of a dragon who died because of treachery and betrayal. That appeared to be a human specialty, and it spat on the natural order of the world.

Kain closed his eyes. Whenever he tried to run to a comforting thought or memory, a wall of thorns sprang up around it. Ricard was dead, and Ruth was selling a theory about how he was murdered through a plot cooked up by the King of Baron—the liege Kain was brought up to respect, revere, and protect with his own life if it came to that.

Kain searched inside himself until he found a moment in time when King Odin's eyes shone kindly and his regal voice spoke directly to every citizen of Baron, every smaller kingdom that relied on her protection. Kain frowned; the memory was grey, distant, and dusty. His best recollection of King Odin's voice was a steely boom that carried decrees of Baron's superiority. A voice that courted war. A voice that resembled the metal chop of airship propellers and the mechanical drone of their engines.

Kain's eyes snapped open as an icy realization squeezed his heart. Everything changed as soon as Baron started bleeding away its dragons in favour of airships. Oh, the reasons and excuses peddled out for the change smelled sweet enough: Airships didn't get tired, they didn't eat, and they didn't turn feral, fly off over the horizon, and waste the kingdom's time and resources.

Airships didn't balk at orders, either. They didn't rebel when their firepower was extended beyond their limits. They burnt, razed, and conquered at a clip far better suited for a war-hungry King.

Generations of Dragoons—everything Ricard died to protect, everything Ruth poured her life into—were dying. Swept away by stokes of ink on parchment.

Kain tried to understand how so many lives, so many vocations, so many traditions, could just be callously left to stagnate and rot. His thoughts got tangled up in each other and he received no answers. Kain swore, punched the ground, and grazed his knuckles on the sharp edge of a rock. He yelped loud enough to make the dragons stop chewing the remnants of their supper.

Kain's frustration nearly boiled over into one of his black-and-red episodes of fury, but he plugged his injured hand into his mouth and clapped a cap on his anger. He remembered Ruth's listlessness, and the heat that seemed to pulse off her body when he was close to her. She was stressed, maybe to the point of fever. Kain mumbled a vow around his hand: He would die before he fell apart and added to her pain.

Kain rose up from beside the fire, dusted himself off, and squared his shoulders. He retrieved his cooked meat and bid the dragons good night. They murmured softly at his back as he used the silver fire of the stars to find his way to the cabin.

***

Ruth refused to eat the supper Kain presented to her. "Throw it out to the dragons," she said as she crept around the tiny, dusty cabin. "I'm not the least bit hungry. If you want to be useful, help me find some extra blankets. I'm freezing."

Kain glanced at the wood embers glowing softly on the hearth in the centre of the cabin's single room. "It's a warm night, and the fire feels nice," he said. "Do you have a fever, mother? The cut Foe's Blood gave you isn't infected, is it?"

Ruth showed him the line down her arm. The wound was no longer bleeding. It looked painful, but there was no serious inflammation. "It cleaned up fine," she said. "It's no more than what I deserved. I don't know, Kain. I'm just tired, I suppose. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."

There was one bed pushed up in the corner of the cabin, and it was large enough to fit both of them. As they settled in, Ruth promised Kain his status as the last surviving Highwind wouldn't save him from being murdered in his sleep if he stole the covers.

Kain remained wide-awake and watched two plates of moonlight—one the colour of blood, the other the colour of bone—slowly lick across the dusty cabin floor. His mother lay beside him, rabbit-still, and pulsing heat. Insects and frogs chattered ceaselessly outside the cabin walls, and the dragons murmured questions at each other.

When Kain finally closed his eyes, Cecil and Rosa rose behind his eyelids. Cecil's naïve smile was strong and reassuring. Rosa radiated hope and calm. They seemed real enough to talk to, to reach out for. Kain was so homesick for Baron, he couldn't understand how his heart managed to keep beating.   

"When do we go back?" he whispered to Ruth, not fully expecting an answer. He jumped a little when Ruth whispered back, "When it's safe. When things have cooled down a little. Ser Skyreach will send for us."

"What if he forgets us?"

"He won't forget us, Kain."

Kain remembered the sound of airships, and he almost said, " _What if the King kills him?_ " He held himself back and instead asked, "Will Skyrunner be all right?"

"He will," Ruth said softly. "Vasvilla and the others gave their word they'd protect him with their lives."

"I hope they will."

"Believe in them, Kain. Times like these, you can't depend on kingdoms or kings or states. All you can do is put your trust and hope in one person at a time."

Ruth said nothing else. Kain tried to fall asleep, but the waves of heat peeling of his mother prevented him from getting comfortable. He remained awake, thinking, and watching the moonlight continue its silent travels.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no it's been like half a year since I updated last. Why can't I just blow off work and write Final Fantasy IV fanfic 'til I die? Why must life be pain? The cookie, that's how she crumbles. 
> 
> Interested in supporting my non-fanfiction writing? Blessed art thou for even considering it. [Here's my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/nadiaoxford)!

Kain woke up in the morning, but his mother didn’t. She was lodged, moaning, far behind a veil of dreams. Kain couldn’t draw her forward no matter how much he shook her.   
  
Kain looked on his mother’s still form on the bed. A scream of despair bubbled up from his chest. He bit on it before it escaped, then choked it back down; if he let it loose, it’d tear through him until there was nothing left of his sanity except bloody chunks.  
  
"Please stay in bed, mother," Kain said slowly. "I’ll take care of the dragons. Don’t worry. Just rest."  
  
Baron’s dragons were trained to be self-sufficient whenever circumstances allowed; when Kain left the cabin, he spotted Endir chewing happily on the pale pink remains of some freshly-caught animal. The grass around Foe’s Blood contained no trace of gore, however. She hadn’t hunted, and she clearly wasn’t interested in eating. Her eyes were fixed, unblinking, at Kain. They captured the glittering pre-dawn light and held it fast.  
  
"I don’t know," Kain answered her shakily. "She won’t get up. She—"  
  
Kain approached Foe’s Blood. The Baronian Red dipped her neck and Kain encircled it with his arms. "What’s going on?" He murmured. "What can I do?"  
  
Though Foe’s Blood had loyalty and ferocity enough to take on all the demons of hell, she lacked the divine lineage necessary to learn the language of Men. But as Kain stood with her in that small clearing, feeling the pulse in her neck and listening to the Troian birds belt out their morning chorus, tendrils of the dragon’s feelings lightly touched his heart. He gasped, then shuddered; he wasn’t prepared for the chill shadow that swept through him. An overpowering sense of dread seized him, and a split-second vision of entropy filled his mind.   
  
_There is a creeping blackness around the cabin_ , Foe’s heart whispered to his. _It’s not part of the woods; it made the journey from Baron. It rode the currents with us, miles and miles, never tiring._  
  
Kain pushed himself away from Foe’s Blood and looked around himself frantically. The birds still sang their morning songs, and a sweet, fresh breeze slipped through his hair. Kain’s skin crawled.  
  
_Blackness...sickness_... Ruth was ill, no doubt, but Kain imagined her malaise was born of the stress and grief she’d been forced to push down, down, down since Ricard died ( _Since he was killed_ , Kain corrected himself while a tiny knife made of fury and fear slipped into his guts). But if was something else—  
  
_Something contagious_? Kain wondered automatically. He shook his head to clear it and stomped his foot once. It made no difference if his mother was infected with the ailments of a thousand moat rats; he’d stay with her, heal her.  
  
But how? Kain’s heart sank. He knew nothing of magic, let alone the complicated white magic that went into purging bodies of illness. He couldn’t mix potions, and it wasn’t as if he was familiar with the plants and herbs of the Troian forest, anyway.   
  
"I spent most of my life learning how to train dragons, and how to fence, joust, and wrestle," Kain murmured in Foe’s direction, "and none of that is worth a speck right now." He tried to laugh, but it the sound hitched out of his chest as a hiccup.  
  
"Kain?"  
  
Ruth’s pale voice struggled to rise above the lively green sounds of the forest waking up, but Kain snapped around to meet the call. She held onto the squat doorframe of the cabin—almost clung to it. Kain barely finished exclaiming "Mother!" before Foe’s Blood lifted herself to her feet and nosed under Ruth’s free arm.   
  
Ruth put all her weight on the red dragon, but hissed "Don’t come near me" when Kain tried to approach her as well. He stopped in his tracks, though doing so hurt worse than any whipping he’d ever endured in his life. His base instinct—the part of him that talked to Foe’s Blood at dawn—urgently whispered the reason why he shouldn’t throw his arms around his ailing mother. His heart, however, screamed.  
  
"That’s right," Ruth said more gently. "Just stay there."  
  
"Mother, I—" Kain’s voice cracked. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I don’t know what’s happening. To you. To anything."  
  
"Plague, Kain," Ruth stated plainly. She clenched loosely at her neck and dragged her hand downward; Kain noted the purple shadows under her jaw. "Plague. I’ve got it. And you need to get away before you get it—or before Skyreach comes back to fetch us and he gets it, too."  
  
All the colour and air drained from Kain’s world. He sank to his knees. "You’re wrong," he quaked, his voice threatening to rise to a shriek. "You’re wrong!"  
  
"Don’t you dare take that tone with me," Ruth snarled with new energy, "and get up off the ground. If this is the way the last Highwind is going to act, Ricard’s line may as well end here and now, bawling in the mud. I know the symptoms as well as anyone, Kain. And I’d heard the whispers around Baron shortly before your father was killed. It is what it is."  
  
"But how? Why?"  
  
"I can’t tell you the ‘why,’ Kain. I’m not in regular contact with the gods." Ruth feebly ran her hand up and down Foe’s neck. "As for the ‘how,’ I don’t have an answer for that, either—or at least not one any mage or scholar would approve of—but I feel like...like the king’s changing heart has caused Baron to sicken. And if Baron gets sick, so do we."  
  
Kain’s head buzzed. "What do I do? What _can_ I do?"  
  
"That, I can tell you," Ruth said. "Go back to Baron."  
  
"Alone?"  
  
"With Endir. You’ll have to try riding her."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Don’t make me waste my energy giving you obvious answers, Kain. I’m staying here."  
  
Kain hooked his fingers into the ground at Ruth’s words and he felt the dew-moist forest soil slide up into his nails. "What’s the point of me going back?" he croaked. "I’ll just get sick there. I’ll be alone. Better for me to stay here with you and...rest."  
  
Ruth pushed herself away from Foe’s Blood and staggered across the clearing. Swaying, she scruffed Kain’s collar and pulled him up from the mud with a growl that trailed into a groan. Then she swung her arm and slapped him across the face. Kain’s hand flew immediately to his cheek; the fever-heat from Ruth’s palm lingered there like a brand. Then Ruth said "hells with it" in a single sharp exhale and swept Kain into her oven-hot arms. Kain’s own arms flew up around her neck.  
  
"What if I just get sick in Baron?" Kain murmured into the damp spot growing on Ruth’s shoulder.  
  
"Then you’ll be amongst mages. You’ll be amongst friends," she whispered. "But you’re not sick, Kain. You’re strong. You’re sharp. Ricard was going to save Baron. Then I thought I’d give it a try. We’ve done what we can. It’s up to you."  
  
Kain trembled. He gripped Ruth harder.  
  
Ruth’s breath hitched. "Protect your father’s dragon, Kain. That’s a start. I know the rest will follow. Now get away from me. I shouldn’t have touched you."  
  
Ruth pushed Kain, and he staggered backwards. He watched blankly as Ruth limped over to Endir, put her hands under the green dragon’s long, toothy face, and locked eyes with the little beast. After a moment, she cocked her head towards Endir to indicate Kain should get on.   
  
Kain slowly gripped the bristly emerald mane running down Endir’s neck and back. He heaved himself onto the dragon for the first time. She wiggled her shoulders and back in protest, but a sharp word from Ruth calmed her again.  
  
"Hold on tight," Ruth said, "and whatever happens, don’t ever let go. You hear me, Kain Highwind?"  
  
"Yes, mother. And don’t worry; I’ll be back for you."  
  
"You’d damn well better not let me see your face again until you bring peace to Baron—and peace to yourself," Ruth returned. "Now run. Get away from here."  
  
A sharp cough racked Ruth, and she doubled over Foe’s Blood. Endir seemed to take the sound as a signal; she unfurled her wings and beat them against the morning air. Kain gasped and lowered his torso against the dragon’s shoulders as she lifted herself without effort. Ruth was right; Endir had grown into a strong flier.  
  
Kain and Endir lifted above the treetops as one being. The leaves around them stirred in the wing-wind and applauded their ascent. But Kain felt so heavy, he could scarcely believe Endir just didn’t plummet back to earth. He glanced at downward at Ruth and Foe's Blood and saw Ruth's pale face turned up at him, shining against Foe's crimson scales like a pearl bobbing in a sea of blood.


End file.
